


deep into that darkness peering

by lutece



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, lots of fluff...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutece/pseuds/lutece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sole Survivor, Carmen Foreman-Applegate, and Diamond City's own detective, Nick Valentine; sounded like a noir pulp-fiction, all right. </p><p>[A collection of prompts from Tumblr, because Nick Valentine is the guy we all want but probably don't deserve. Always a WIP.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is just a big index of all the prompts I'm in the middle of filling out on tumblr. if you have any, I'd be more than happy to write them--I'm @sofialamb on tumblr. things may get cheesy, but I just adore nick v!!!!!
> 
> some are of them in an established relationship, some are not.

**i. (forehead kiss)**

* * *

 One thing she could be thankful for in the wasteland was that makeup was no longer a condition, because it was so rare to find. When she cried, the tears flowed in a much healthier way, unable to let her rosy cheeks be marred by thick, tar-like tracks all down her face. Carmen had never cried this much in her life—it was a constant now, every night before she slept—but how else could she react properly to the thought her baby boy was out there somewhere, either being hurt or being looked after by someone who didn’t deserve his innocence?

“Carm?” a gravelly voice said, and she hadn’t even realised the door to her private quarters had been opened. “You all right?”

Nick’s eyes always glowed bright in the dark, to be compared to quite a literal beacon of hope. Those yellow orbs bore into her, and she found it hard to lie about how she was feeling with his gaze upon her. They had been through so much together by now that he wouldn’t believe her, anyway, if she tried to tell him she was fine.

The house she had constructed for herself was elongated: the top structure required a bit of effort to reach, so she couldn’t help smiling through her tears, as much as she was perplexed.

“Shaun,” she replied, as he shut the door behind her and came to her. “He’s just…”

“It’s all right, Carmen.” She was sat in the couch angled next to his crib, the one she had lifted from what used to be her home, before all of the bombs and the destruction and the collective pain of humanity. Valentine hovered in front of the spare space beside her, unsure, but his words validated her more than any human companion could achieve, when he whispered, “I know.”

“Nick…”

Carmen scrunched her palms into her trousers, stressing the material, then started to cry again. She felt pathetic compared to how she presented herself in the wastes, but she knew he wouldn’t judge her.

In fact, he came to sit beside her now, still unsure, but made more confident by her distress.

“You want me to stay?” he rasped.

She had half-expected him to use that suave tongue and say,  _You look like shit itself, kid_. But when he only offered support, she nodded in the midst of her heaving gasps, and in the next moment, she had her face turned against the comforting beige of his trench coat collar, and her hand now scrunching the material of his own outfit.

For a synth, he felt no different than how her husband had felt when he had held her like this. The position was perhaps compromising in its intimacy, but Carmen wasn’t in a coherent state of mind to care.

Besides, she thought, she craved this from him. Over time, those “partnership” feelings had started to change, flipping her stomach about, making her confused. How was it she felt more grounded with someone that wasn’t even a person? Yet he was; he spoke, he had a personality, he had feelings of his own…

“Carmen,” Nick said.

His lips went against her forehead. It was such a light brush it might as well have not even happened, but she felt it, and her heart was seized with that confusion again.

He only laughed it off, a surprising warmth and rumble over her crisp golden locks. “I think those kind of gestures… placate your kind.”

“Yeah,” Carmen whispered back. Like a child, her hand tugged at him. They had never been so physically close before. “Nick… Stay.”

“Of course.”

She smiled.

“Let’s talk about life before all this shit.”

Then he laughed again. “Whatever your heart desires, Carm.”

_If only he knew._


	2. Chapter 2

**ii. (collarbone kiss)**

* * *

 

They hobbled out of the skirmish together—or at least Carmen did. She allowed herself to go from leaning on Nick to falling onto a crate that was half-bobbing in the water, unstable but somewhere to sit regardless. Her shoulder was throbbing and she winced when she was forced to straighten, looking down in annoyance at her soaked boots in the water.

“I hate raiders,” she bemoaned, “and I hate Quincy. You get them to stop firing at you to scramble away; you end up under the sea. Massachusetts…” Her neck craned as she looked around her: mostly everything in this part of the state was submerged, derelict houses that still stood on their way out after two centuries. Fog was thick here, sailing on the top of the busted banks. “How did it end up like _this_? I remember all of it here, clear, untouched. Beautiful…”

“We both know how and why,” said Nick, ever the stoic. “No point thinking about it right now. Our ancestors were content to blow us all to hell because they didn’t think about the aftermath for us. Now…”

In the cover of the dry staircase they were hidden behind, he reached his good, organic-covered hand to peel back the collar of her general’s outfit. She would have protested if their relations hadn’t changed a few months back. He was always feather-light with her, worrying the strength that came with being a synth would hurt her one day, but it had never happened.

Carmen did protest, though, at the sight of a Stimpak being procured from his coat.

“Where’d they hit ya? Oh.”

“Don’t be reckless,” she said with some alarm. “Save it. We have a while to go before we get back to Sanctuary Hills—“

“Don’t  _pre-empt_ ,” he shot back with a soft smile, and whilst she was distracted with their conversation, he jabbed the syringe into the bare skin he had revealed. “Good. I grabbed a couple stashes of these things at the same time we were blasting heads off. Swear my pocket’s bulging.”

“Are those Stimpaks in your pocket, detective,” Carmen said playfully, “or are you happy to see me?”

His other, robotic hand waved her off. “Ah, shut it.” Then, when the liquid in the needle had done its job and fizzled in her skin, securing the grazing shut as though nothing had ever marred the pink there, he leant forward to kiss the junction between her shoulder and neck at first, and then her collarbone finally.

She looked down at him over her eyelashes, fluttering as her heart was. It was so funny to her, that a man that wasn’t even technically alive caused her more butterflies than any of her other companions who had seemed to waver for some affection at first—Hancock and Preston, they were good pals, they couldn’t replicate the feelings of pure romance like this noir-styled synth did.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Nick said in apology against her skin still. “In this world, we have to keep going on.”

“No need for apologies,” she murmured. She traced her fingers over the fabric of his hat, when his head was craned in close like this, then pushed him away, playful again, shrugging her sleeve back over her shoulder. “Come on. I don’t think your circuitry would appreciate even more time in this watery wasteland.” 

Valentine looked at her for a while, still in that sappy mood of his that she so loved. But right now when they were at threat of raiders still, he shrugged and changed his tune himself.

“Water resistance only takes me so far,” he agreed, and, laughing, Carmen took his good hand and ran in the nearest, dry-looking direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably my favourite response

**iii. (marvelling at the wonder of humans)**

* * *

 

She had gone from a hard ground to a soft cushion beneath her in what felt like one rushing moment. Carmen’s eyes opened to see a dim darkness, but soon recognised the familiarity of the industrial light she had set up, here in her private quarters; the looming structure at the top of all those wooden staircases could look so foreboding to others, a fortress of sorts, but all it housed really was the angst and pain of a mother separated from child.

The woman went to sit, then realised a presence beside her. When she turned her head, there was Nick Valentine, his yellow eyes shining at her as lovingly as the synthetic irises could. He was perched on the other side of the bed in full outfit, ankles crossed, looking guarded. She wanted to blush at the thought he watched her so intently when she slept, like a guardian angel.

A guardian synth.

“Nick,” she croaked, looking forward for a moment to rub at her face. Her lazy blonde curls had stuck to her face—she felt sweaty, and hot, and her throat felt the same. “Did I fall asleep?”

“More like passed out,” he answered. “In the middle of digging up some corn.”

There was a pause, then he sighed. “Carmen, we need to talk. I know synths can go on straining themselves forever, but humans are quite different. I really think you oughta let the folks round here do their work for a bit, rather than trying to do everything at once.”

“They need someone.” She was quick to reply, still turned away from him. He was everything to her, and yet she continued to feel protective over herself. This world was something she had gotten used to, she had thought. By now, surely she had gotten used to it. “They need me.”

“They can look after themselves. Trust me.” Valentine’s words were too soothing, though. She knew she would relent the more he went on, speaking the truth. It was wisdom the majority of men didn’t have. “You’ve walked around this town plenty of times this week, haven’t ya? There must be ten, fifteen settlers now, cultivating their own. Hell, I’ve even seen Hancock planting some gourds, and Miss Piper talking to people about things that aren’t related to her prized journalism.”

He reached out to her. It was his skinless hand that touched her forearm, gentle and placating.

“Carmen,” he said softly. “Just take a break, won’t ya. You’re stretched all over the damn place. Everyone wants something, and sure, you’re one hell of a problem solver. But it’s time to focus on what you need yourself.”

She blinked back the start of recurring tears.

“I don’t know what to do, Nick,” she moaned. “I need to find Shaun. My baby, he, he’s out there. Then all these settlements call my name, and of course, there’s you…” Carmen elected to turn over now, and he welcomed her with open arms. His coat was always snug, not particularly scented considering he was a synth, but it was familiar to her now.

She brushed her face into the fabric as his non-robotic hand splayed across her back. “You’re a better therapist than the one I paid for Nate’s PTSD.”

He chuckled and said, “Well, wouldn’t be objective to getting paid for just saying the truth…”

“Were you watching me sleep, before?” she asked, peering up.

His eyes glinted periodically and were bright enough to lighten some of her face. If he had pigmentation control in his cheeks, or any pigmentation at all, Nick Valentine would have flushed with embarrassment when he nodded.

“Yeah. I just… I don’t sleep, do I? I’m never down, unless I’m severely damaged, I guess. Hasn’t happened yet, hope it doesn’t. But now I’ve got you to watch over, I don’t mind.” He lowered his eyes. “Was listening, too.”

“Listening?” Carmen pressed.

“To your breathing.”

“My breathing?”

He stammered for a moment then nodded again. “Sorry, don’t mean to sound like a sleaze or a creep or whatever. It just… Reminds me you’re alive. That you’re everything I want to be myself. Somehow, it makes me feel real.”

A comfortable silence filled the air for a few minutes. Reminded herself of her breathing, Carmen became conscious of her irregular, disturbed breaths against Nick’s coat, until she let go of him and lay on her back again.

“Nick,” she said, inviting. “Here.”

He looked imploringly at her. “What, baby?”

“Here.” She lifted her shirt, noticing he had stripped her of some layers at least, and put the closest hand she could grasp to her chest. “Feel it.”

Nick said nothing, instantly mesmerised. He wished both his hands were like his good one so it would be softer for her—he was always careful with that damned pincher hand of his—but he was at least thankful he had working receptors in both. He could feel, as limited as it was, breaths in her chest stretching against her sternum. The soft skin that covered her body was adapting to each beat of her heart, all of these systems pumping together; the respiratory, the circulatory…

All he had was circuitry. A box of wires that could move and talk and think. Yet Carmen loved him all the same, treated him like her husband, he guessed, and kissed him like he was a human man. That was more than he needed to feel real like he said, and if he had veins, gratitude would have flowed through them.

It made his artificial heart buzz all the same.

Valentine couldn’t really hold back any longer. “You’re so beautiful, Carm,” he said, and he moved to lean down and kiss her sternum there. His lips in a contained, intimate place like that made her inhale sharply, and he smirked, at the same time treasuring the rush of air. “You really are a damn woman out of time, that’s for sure.”

“You’re a flatterer,” Carmen whispered. She grew conscious of herself when he started to descend, pecking other exposed parts of her; darting along and down her ribs, at her hip bones. “Nick, don't…”

She had always hated her stretch marks. In fact, she didn’t know a single woman in her group of now-deceased friends from before the War that enjoyed the sight of them. It was a strange part of a woman’s life, she thought, to flutter with such pride at bringing a longed-for child into the world, then shun the marks left behind.

Nick was not phased. If anything, it only added to his excitement. He looked them over for a moment, zoning in on the marred skin, the fingers of his textured hand roaming gently. Every bump and strip of hard skin was still soft to him, she realised.

“I still stand by my words,” he murmured. “It’s life, right here. A winning example of it. You’re beautiful.”

“I love you,” she blurted. She had said it before, but the words were nerve-wracking all the same.

When he came back up, Nick was all anxiety himself, eyes regarding her carefully. But both of their nerves dissipated when he smiled, and she smiled back, and his final kiss was against her lips.

“Let’s go on an adventure tomorrow,” he offered. “There’s always a case to solve. Maybe it’ll clear your head.”

Carmen’s teeth came through in her smile, when she started to laugh, as he held her again. “That sounds like a swell idea.”

“Carmen.” He kissed her again. “I love you too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**iv. (sharing a cigarette)**

* * *

 

They stopped beneath a great pillar that was still standing and still holding up one of the highways from the old world, albeit much of it had crumbled. It was observations like that that made Carmen the saddest, the small details from the large-scale thought of destruction. She’d suffered enough rebuilding Sanctuary when she remembered every little step there, where they’d met with the realtor, where they’d signed the lease forms–everything. It felt entirely minuscule compared to the rest of the state.

“Glad to get out of that rain,” Nick commented, shuffling a hand in his pockets. “Does no good for my frame. Hope it won’t transform into a nuclear storm here.”

She instinctively grimaced. “I’ve only seen one, over Sanctuary, and it was a nightmare.” Her hands went to meddle with wet strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, but she stopped herself, knowing it didn’t matter. There was blood and dirt all over her outfit; this wasn’t 2077. “I’m so sick of raiders today… Is it possible to die of adrenaline?” 

“ _Heh_. You’re asking the synth?” 

Nick lit up a cigarette that had suddenly appeared in his bare metal hand. Carmen was drawn to it instantly, the glint at the end sparking in her eyes, kicking her cravings in. She hadn’t had a smoke since… before she had had Shaun. Even then, it had been rare compared to the rest of her family, who may as well have been chimneys, but she couldn’t deny the calming nature.

“Mind if I–” she began, reaching her hand out with her lip between her teeth. “I mean…” 

He looked at her hand then took out another cigarette. “Well, sure–”

“No, that’s a waste,” Carmen cut in, shaking her hand. “Let’s just share it. Even though you waste them anyway… You don’t even have lungs!”

“It cleans out the system,” he said with a shrug. She found that hard to believe, but he gave no resistance; Nick had already taken a drag of the cigarette when it was offered close to her mouth. “Here.”

She hoped he didn’t catch onto her blush when she took the end into her lips, and cherished the high that came out of it when she pulled back, blowing to the endless, dark sky. Just a normal cigarette, but it had stirred something inside her. Her body had been ice for two centuries, she supposed.

“Who do you think won the War?” Nick asked, withdrawing his arm to take another drag. “Nobody, I guess.”

Carmen was too fixated on the fact he had put his lips to something she had put her lips to to reply at first. When she realised his strong gaze was on her, waiting for an answer even though it seemed a rhetoric question, she shrugged, pretending to be non-committal, and leant forward again.

“Nobody. Another hit, then we’ll go?” she asked. 

He put the cigarette to her mouth, their gazes burning the whole time like the flame in the wrapping, then nodded. 


	5. Chapter 5

**vi. (carmen being a good wife)**

* * *

 

He wrenched his shoulder away from her when she tried to grab at a patch, insisting, “Baby, I’m fine.” 

“Why don’t you wear a tux?” she suggested. At her desk, Ellie was trying not to laugh into her cup of coffee. Carmen was sure the girl pretended to work and stayed back just to be a witness to the antics that could crop up sometimes between them, whilst the older woman was assisting on detective cases here in the city. “I’m sure I have a lot of stuff like that in Home Plate’s myriad of drawers… Even just another suit. Come on, Nick–you’re meeting the Mayor.” 

“It’s just the mayor, Carm,” he said, unconvinced. But he was looking consciously down at himself now, shrugging his shoulders. “Met him before. I don’t understand why you dames are pushin’ me to wear something else. It’s probably my trademark now. Hell, I’m sure plenty of folks covered in dirt and sweat and what else have you have sauntered up pretty to the Mayor, and he hasn’t cared.” 

Carmen sighed and folded her arms, leaning back against the front desk. She shot an exasperated glance to Ellie, who shot her one back. 

Nick caught it, frowning. “You wouldn’t catch me dead in a tux. I ain’t a politician. Conventions don’t apply like they used to… You think everyone has the time to think about clothes?”

“Fallon’s is always bustling,” Ellie said over the top of her cup. The look she received from her boss made her look back down.

“At least let me fix your tie?” Carmen offered. When he didn’t shoot a witty response back, she smiled and stood forward to reach for said tie. “Men.  _God_ , Nate was just the same…” 

They were silent for a few moments. Ellie seemed to recognise that the mention of Carmen’s husband was sure to set a different kind of mood, and gathered up her homework for the night.

“I’ll, uh, see you guys tomorrow,” she muttered, moving up the stairs to her bed. Carmen hadn’t wanted to put her out of shelter, so she’d just purchased Home Plate across from the market–it meant she could have a lot more private time with the detective, anyway.

Nick said goodnight, as Carmen’s deft fingers looped the fabric around his neck in ways he hadn’t seen before. She started from scratch with it, before she tightened it up until it lay below his collar, which she made an effort to button too. 

“You’re forgetting one thing,” he said slowly. “I ain’t a man.” 

“You are,” she said, eyebrows raised. He had been more… self-loathing as of late. She wondered, briefly, if it was because of the change in their relationship. Sometimes, he confessed to worrying that he was staining her good reputation with folks. “Well, even if you’re a synth, you act the same… Guess the Institute was good at making realistic personalities…” 

“Carmen…” 

She frowned herself, hands moving to clutch his lapels. She realised her error, feeling embarrassed, and hung her head so her forehead touched the middle of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to bring him up all the time. It’s just, I…” 

“Baby, I don’t care. I know you’re grieving still.” Nick’s arms went about her and made her safe, as they always did. “Look at me, the whole Eddie Winters case… We’re the same.” 

Her frown was exchanged for a sad smile now. “You never forget them, do you?”

“No.” 

After a pause or two, Carmen shook her head and stepped back, to observe Nick’s change of appearance. He did look more formal with a proper button-up shirt and his tie done correctly, but then…

“No,” she said to herself. “You were right. I don’t think I like you so uptight.” 

When Nick laughed, she laughed, and stepped forward to undo his tie again.

“Watch it,” he said, husky, fingers digging into her sides instinctively. “That action may have put a bad thought into my head.” 

The Sole Survivor could only smile, tilting her head. When she did so, she knew her curls would fall in a certain way, the way that made him look twice. 

“Not bad if we both think of it, I guess.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the biggest chapter yet--now I'm proud of this one. more exploration of carm I guess

**vii. (pregnancy talk, and more)**

* * *

 

Most of her companions that were stationary here in Sanctuary were asleep long before the sunset—the Commonwealth sure had a way of tiring you out, but even more so if you’d been working the field all day. Noticing how each of them chipped in on a morning made the Sole Survivor’s heart warmed like no other; the sight of Hancock ploughing and talking with settlers that didn't judge him, and the sight of Piper at a food station handing out relatively-safe looking soup, and the sight of Preston and the Vault-Tec Rep at the vendor stands front of the town, and Strong, Deacon and Dogmeat playing were all lovely and common sights to Carmen by now. Her former home could drop that word “former” by now, because walking back into the streets and seeing the lights bringing out the smiles in people’s hopeful faces made it even more of a home than it had been two centuries ago: here, people could count on being safe, and here, they could live comfortably with the knowledge every man wasn't out for himself here, but every man was here to support his fellow.

“They must be dead out,” Carmen commented as loaded ammunition into her bag at the worktop outside the house adjacent to her own shack, Nick by her side, tuning his hand. She chuckled to herself as she added, “Piper’s probably taken my bed again. She's fond of doing that.”

“Probably because you’re hardly seen sleepin’ here,” Nick countered, and it made her chuckle again. He realised his tone could have been seen as off-hand and she felt his worried gaze burning into her back. “Uh, I mean, you're always in my damn agency.”

“Can't help it, Nicky,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. When she met his eyes, he dropped his own and went back to tuning his hand; she noticed he had been avoiding her look a lot these past few weeks of travelling together, after his own quest for consolidation. “Thought you said I was the best damn partner you’d ever had?”

“You are.” A smile played on his lips. He dared to look at her again, and she turned back round to prevent the strange blush that hit her cheeks when he smiled so reverently like that. “Never seen so many cases completed in such a short space of time. I’ll be damned if I don't appreciate the help. Maybe you were a detective in another life, Carm.”

“Actually, did I never tell you what my profession was before this?”

“Don't… Don't think ya did, no.” When she had finished filling her bag to the brim with well-earned supplies, she hooked it onto her shoulder, turned and half-skipped forward to him. “Strange how that hasn't come up as a topic of conversation all these weeks. So, what’d you do? Can I guess?”

“Try me,” she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “I bet you won't be able to get it right.”

Nick paused, putting his good hand to his chin for effect. His screwdriver had been tucked away into a distant coat-pocket, his fingers looking tighter and more effective in clenching already. In the moonlight, his yellow eyes seemed even more searing. It made that strange blush beat at her cheekbones, a diffusion of red on pale.

“All right. You were a district attorney,” he tried.

Her jaw dropped. “How—yes?”

He let out a heartwarming laugh. “I knew it. You use way too much jargon, kid, to not be anything else. I mean, legally. Unless you watched a lot of legal dramas back in the day, I wasn't sure…”

“My certificate’s hanging up on that wall in that house there,” Carmen said, and she stepped to the edge of the foundation of the veranda to point that particular house out. He stood up from the pillar he’d been leaning on and looked awed.

She remembered moving into that very same house; it was pristine, painted blue and white. Her and Nate had spent months picking out the neighbourhood, never mind the house to live in, and that had been the perfect one to accommodate their growing family. Shaun would learn to ride his bike in the bright garden, laughing under the sun, resembling his daddy, and they’d take him to the park every chance they could get. Nate had retired from even home-duty just to look after them both, just as she had resigned herself to working from home. Everything was planned—everything was ruined in a space of a few minutes turned to two hundred years, thanks to a combination of forces not even God could fight against.

She dropped her hand slowly. “But… I don't touch that place anymore. I can't… I…” She swallowed, not unnoticed by him, who moved instinctively closer. “Nicky, it’s okay. I'm not going to cry again. Sometimes, it just rocks my boat a little.”

“You're not the only one.” Nick smiled sympathetically at her. “You really are from the past. Would be strange, seeing your name on that certificate. Not that I disbelieved you—I believed you from the start—but… jars it, doesn't you?”

“Completely,” she agreed.

They spent a few moments reflecting, as they often did together. Nick Valentine was one of those few people she had encountered where she could fall in a comfortable silence, letting the world pass by as they contemplated life and more.

“Maybe it's time to hit the road again,” he suggested wisely after a while. “Raiders don't like the dawn when it comes, ‘cause sane people arrive with it.” Carmen took a breath and nodded faintly at him.

“Yeah,” she said. Then she saw the glow of lights on the second floor of her shack, catching the glints in her baby blues, and she patted her mouth as she remembered something important. “Oh, wait. I need to make a pit stop.”

“Sure thing.”

Carmen didn't mind that he instantly followed her path round the lit lamp in the street, and into the welcoming atmosphere of her shack. She had built it little-by-little, expanding floors in sync with the town’s growth, and, as expected, saw Piper sleeping, curled up, on the bag beneath the staircase.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” Nick whispered. He was close behind her, and she could feel his simulated breath almost at the nape of her neck; he was taller, looming at times.

She giggled into her hand as they stepped up the stairs, wincing at each creak, but Piper didn't stir at all. She mumbled in her sleep, though, which Carmen knew she could tease her about later.

“I'm serious, Carm. You ever woke a sleeping reporter before? They bite.”

“Nick! I thought we were supposed to be quiet…”

“She’s flat out—”

“Shush!” she scolded him, playfully. “I don't want my dear companions all cranky when we wake them all up.” When she swiped a glance at him, he was all cheeky grin.

The mood of the night changed when they reached the third floor. Carmen’s private quarters were private and locked for a reason: it held her darkest, troubling secret in the form of a little room in a little alcove at the corner of the floor. Shaun’s crib was lit up as it always was by the industrial light, the preserved mobile above it tinkling very gently due to the wind creeping in-between the wooden panelling of the wall behind.

“Oh…” Nick said quietly, closing the door behind him. “Thought you wanted, ah… Some special armour.”

“No,” she said back, just as quiet. It was out of fear she would wake Shaun she thought, but—he wasn't even there. He was somewhere else, perhaps under the harsh white light of the Institute. When Carmen reached the railings of the crib and held onto them to look down and be greeted by nothing but an empty cot and rocket-patterned fabric, the guilt was suffocating.

She was out here, playing mother to everyone else’s troubles, when her real baby was suffering in an unknown place.

“I'm so sorry, Nick,” she apologised at once, squeezing the railings, fighting the pressure burning behind her eyes. “I always bring you up here with me, and tell you all my woes. I'm sure you're sick of it now, huh…”

“Of course not,” he was quick to reply. “I don't care, Carmen. Well, I do. I care about you,” he added, so softly.

She dabbed at the corners of her somewhat-dirtied eyes with her delicate fingers, then sniffed and took her bag off her shoulder again, opening it up once more. Her hands scrambled around until she started pulling a mess of things out of it.

“I wanted to drop off some things,” she explained. Nick didn’t need to be told what they were—he could guess they were for Shaun. Carmen neatly and gingerly started to place things atop the cushioning: a working, painted baby rattle, some alphabet blocks, a felted rocket ship, and a cuddly alien toy to name the most extravagant of the gifts. “There,” she said, satisfied when she had arranged them accordingly.

“Don't forget this.”

She turned, confused, then gasped softly as Nick procured a teddy-bear from his back. Where had that came from? It was worn down and ripped apart with only one eye, but it was identifiable as a bear with all of its soft limbs, and a crimson ribbon was still wound tightly around its neck.

She let her bag be dropped onto the nearby chair as she stepped forward to take the bear, putting a hand to her chest.

“Nick…” Carmen dropped her head. “I was trying not to cry. Where did you…”

“Just picked it up on a whim, I guess,” the synth confessed. He smiled. She cherished the closeness between them, though she would continue denying the new air that existed.

“It's silly, isn't it? Getting toys for a baby that isn't even… isn't even here…”

“I don't think so.” She looked back up at him from under her blonde eyelashes. “Little man needs all the toys he can get for his big return. I bet he’ll be itching for a good build of those blocks. Bet he’d love to knock them down again, too.”

“That's what kids do,” Carmen mused. She stepped forward to quickly kiss his faux-skinned cheek, quick enough to act like it didn't happen as she turned to put the bear at the edge of the crib. “Thank-you so much, Nicky. This means… It means an awful lot to me that you stick your neck out so much for me—for us.”

“Hey, it's not… It's no problem, Carm. But…” She moved the bag to settle in the chair, watchful, and he took a seat in the opposite one. “Can I ask ya something kinda personal?”

She folded her hands over her lap. In that moment, she looked every bit the Pre-War lady that she had forgotten she was.

“Of course. I'm intrigued now,” she said with a tearful smile.

Nick raised his brows. “Shit, Carmen, I didn't mean to—”

“No, I'm not crying!” She rubbed at her cheek and laughed him off with a wave of her hand. “Go on, ask me whatever you want. You’re my greatest friend out here, Nick. I know everyone’s caught on that I only ever want to travel with you.”

“Gee, Carm. You make me feel like a million bucks,” he said with a wink at her. Now it was his turn to fight the peculiar warmth when she blushed and looked down. “I, uh… I guess I was just wondering what it was like for you. Uh… Being pregnant and all. Was it, a good experience? I thought it might help, to talk…”

Carmen was surprised by the question, but a gentle smile stayed on her face. The memories hurt—God, if they didn't hurt to think of a time when there was law and order, when the worst thing you had to worry about was being late for work rather than trying to survive in an unforgiving world—but it was a bittersweet feeling, too, with the happy edges that came along with them.

“Yeah… Yes, it was a good experience,” she recounted, folded hands pressing over her stomach. She used to do it habitually, but it was easier for her to stop the urge. “We wanted him. It was all planned. It was just still such a shock when I found out, that this little boy would be there and change my world nine months later. He wasn't too late or too early…” She chuckled. “Made me crave the weirdest things ever, though. Funny little guy. I told Nate one time I wanted asparagus on pizza with sour cream, and if I didn't get it right at that instant, I’d divorce him.”

“Lucky guy,” said Nick, and she laughed.

“He put up with a lot of my shit,” Carmen admitted, her laughter fading. “Nathan… He was so broken when I met him. I think, I think he was on his way to recovering from all the fighting, as a veteran, but it wasn't until we had Shaun that everything just… just flipped. I don't think he thought he would have a child at his age, never mind a son. It was… a dream.” She paused, fingering her ring, rotating it up and down anxiously. It was months upon months ago, but even if Sanctuary was different now and Vault 111 had been abandoned forever, the wounds were raw. “Shaun was my baby boy—is my baby boy. He’ll never stop being the true love of my life. And I feel so, so false being out here, helping people ahead of my own concerns. But I have this feeling he’s being kept safe, somehow. Whoever has a plan for him wouldn't hurt him, I know…”

“You're right,” the detective chipped in. She smiled at him; he would always validate her any chance he received. “It’s a lot of trouble for a little boy. He’s safe, Carmen, you and I both know it. Just safe with the wrong people.”

“He must be special. But, maybe he’s so scared…” She sighed, one that wracked her whole body, and made her realise how tired she was. “Maybe he wouldn't even recognise me if I picked him up again. Maybe he’d cry and cry and cry, until I put him back with his captors. Maybe they're doing a better job—maybe vault life would have been terrible for us all…”

The sound of a chair scraping forward alleviated her oncoming coughing a little; Nick had dragged himself closer to her, so he could put both of his hands on her knees, not violating but comforting.

“Hey, Carmen, shh,” he said soothingly. “Hey, look at me… Can't have you having another crying-coughing fit—then I’d be a really bad pal, huh? Carmen…”

“I'm all right.” She looked up and saw his face full of concern. “Swear it, Nick, I'm fine.”

He frowned. “Maybe you should stop hitting those meds so hard,” he suggested. His tone seemed to harden or darken when he went on, “Hancock doesn't still try and slip you drugs… does he?”

“I'm a woman, Nick, you know I can handle that kind of shit,” Carmen said, hair falling over her shoulders as she tilted her head. “Besides, no, he hasn't. It's just, I don't know. All this travelling catching up with me.”

“Then scrap my previous idea.” The synth stood, returning his chair, cracking his neck, and pointing accusingly at Carmen. “You, are gonna go to sleep tonight and stay in bed all morning ‘till I come and get ya for the continuation of our adventures, all right?”

“That was a long sentence that I don't think I want to follow,” the woman said.

“No backtalking, Carm,” Nick said. She laughed. “I see a perfectly comfortable bed waitin’ for you over there. Good view, too. Our travels can wait.”

“Can Shaun?” Carmen asked.

He looked down at her seriously. Her eyes were wide, wet with those unshed tears she’d been battling with. They hadn't fallen out into a waterfall, because she was so disciplined, so full of willpower, so goddamn strong and everything more that he admired…

“Yes,” he finally said. He noticed a visible swallow in her throat, something inherently human and alive. “Yeah, Carm. He’s fine. He knows his momma is coming for him, a lioness after her cub. And he knows she's coming with sharpened nails and a hell of a bloody thirst.”

“Nick Valentine…” He reached a hand out to her like a gentleman. She accepted it, waves of tiredness hitting even harder when she stood and felt dizzy. “You're more poetic than you appear, sometimes.”

Nick grinned at her. “I try to be.” Then he pushed her by the small of her back, over to her bed, not moving until she sat on the edge and seemed to be giving in. “Now, you get some sleep. Like always, I don't need it, apart from downtime, so I'll be just waiting downstairs. Or, actually… Piper says it creeps her out when I'm in the same room all night, so…”

“Actually…” Carmen reached and tugged at his sleeve when he stood up to leave and say goodnight. She looked all shy, gazing from under her eyelashes once again. “It might be the opposite for me. I mean—oh… Nick? Do you think you could… stay? Just in the room?” She bit at her lip; when she wasn't watching, he stared at each little movement. “I… I wonder if I might not have a nightmare tonight.”

Nick knew of her night terrors. She tossed and turned like a newborn when they set up camp wherever they could find a relatively safe haven, and when she couldn't sleep at all, she thought hard of life with sweat collecting all over her brow and curls, and would pace until she would pass out from exhaustion again. Nick often carried her back to her roll, only to have her repeat it just before setting off for another town.

If he had a heart, it would have been beating very fast. But since he only contained processors, they buzzed warmly instead.

He stood forward and idly took a curl of her hair that was sticking out, to seal the contract. “Of course I can, Carm. Where do you want me?”

She smiled happily. “Oh, anywhere, I… Maybe you can keep a watch out for the town, too. Over there?”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

“Don't call me ma’am,” Carmen muttered, blushing. She kicked off her boots and pulled her knees to her chest on the bed. “I'm not old enough for that yet.”

“Miss…” Nick picked up one of the chairs near Shaun’s crib effortlessly with one hand, and placed it close to the balcony, at the section with the most exposure to the outside world. He grinned as he set it down; she seemed impressed by the shows of synth-strength he displayed sometimes. “Miss Danger, that's what. Miss Reckless, Miss ‘Throws Self Into Super Mutant Camps’... and has Mr Valentine fearing for both of their lives.”

He sat in the chair. Once his back was turned, he felt more confident to add, “But Miss Danger’s life, especially. After all she's done for the Commonwealth, and him. It's a great honour to watch over her at night, he thinks. He wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Carmen settled on the bed, assuming a position like Piper had done. It seemed common with the danger here, curling up like in the foetal position, probably the most natural one for anyone to sleep in. Her cheeks were a vibrant red, but when she turned the conductor off and all of the lights went out, she was thankful he couldn't see anything of her but a shadowy black figure, and only feel her presence there.

His there would be beneficial, she knew. He made her feel safe, even when they had went into that Museum of Witchcraft and faced a savage deathclaw together. Even when… Even when the unforeseeable happened.

“You're too cheesy, Valentine,” she murmured, after a soft yawn.

“Yeah,” he agreed. She could see two orbs beating and glowing against the wood wall he was sat in front of, and he saw him lighting up a cigarette, too. A habit she tenderly associated with him, and had come to admire, considering he didn't even possess organs. “Maybe I just got a soft spot for you...”

“Huh?” she asked.

“Night, Carmen,” he quickly said, and his voice was thereafter muffled by cigarette smoke.

The Sole Survivor’s heart was beating. If she had heard him correctly, then she was sure her dreams would be filled with him. This synth that had came sailing into her life—or rather she had brought him sailing into hers with that fateful vault encounter.

Carmen put her head to her pillow properly, closed her eyes, and was contented by the sounds of the wind rustling gently outside for once, at the whirring of the power generator on the roof near the second floor just below her body, and at the periodic sound of gears turning in Nick’s hand; he was no doubt fixing it up again.

That night, she had no nightmares at all. Only soft, but bright yellow eyes appeared in the blackness.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**vii. (nick singing to carmen in bed)**

* * *

 

Most nights, it was easy to fall asleep from travel exhaustion and a partially dissatisfied stomach even if there was a promise of nightmares, but this night, the blackness refused to take Carmen. As much as she laid there, comfortable with Nick’s arms tight around her waist—snug rather than constraining—sleep wouldn’t claim her.

“Nicky?” she said after a time. He knew she wouldn’t have fallen asleep; by now he recognised different breathing patterns from observing her almost every night. It was endearing to her. “If I gave you a strange request, you’d… You’d hear it out still, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would, baby.” His response was immediate, not mechanic but drenched in empathy as it always was with her. Nick squeezed her gently to consolidate his reply. “I can’t see any request being strange from my favourite girl… I reckoned you were still awake.”

Carmen traced her fingers over his, frowning in the din of the corner lamp. “Some nights it’s harder, for no reason at all. Anyway… Nick?”

“Yeah, baby?”

She turned over slightly, just to meet his yellow, watchful eyes. “Would you sing something, maybe?” she asked, quiet and hopeful. “I’ve heard you plenty of times, but only when you didn’t realise I was there.”

He looked sheepish for just a moment before he grinned and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I guess I can’t help it; some of those tunes that come on the radio take me back. Two hundred years back, actually.”

“Same for me,” Carmen supplied.

After a brief pause, he shifted to allow her to turn over fully, and kissed the other corner of her mouth. “What does the pretty dame want me to sing tonight?”

She thought hard at first, but then shook her head dismissively. “Anything that comes to mind. Anything…” She felt her cheeks tinge with red—he made her nervous even months into their relationship. “Something that makes you think of… me?”

Nick cocked a smile at her, then let his eyes drift off into the distance. “Oh, I can do that.”

In the close proximity, his hand closed over her back to anchor her to him, to make her feel even safer than she felt. He wanted her to know he would always be watching over her, most of all in the times she wasn’t so much a survivor as she was a vulnerable young woman in a destroyed world. Nick dropped his head to her ear, stroked down her back, and let his smooth voice begin rumbling out a familiar song for both of them.

“ _Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you_ …”

Carmen closed her eyes and let him continue, curling more against his chest. The weight of her worries in the Commonwealth fizzled away with Nick Valentine there to assure her there was goodness left over here, and that someone loved her so earnestly.

“ _Earth angel, Earth angel, the one I adore, love you forever, and evermore_ …” Finally, she felt sleep pulling at her eyelids, and he rumbled against the softness of her blonde curls instead. “ _I’m just a fool… A fool in love with you_ …”


	8. Chapter 8

**viii. (nick having flashes from his past)**

* * *

 

Another ghoul fell to the floor mid-hiss, afterlife cut short by the steaming, hardened sniper pistol Carmen had favoured since the morning when she’d pulled it out and realised there was a boatload of ammunition for it lying around, unscathed. She visibly recoiled, strapping the pistol back at her side and in a hurry to get out of these forsaken mines, but her companion seemed to have other ideas.

“Nick?” she called over her shoulder, at the top of a flight of stairs. He hadn’t followed–he was trailing behind. Worriedly–cautiously–she went back down the stairs, coming back to him soon enough. “Nick?”

“ _Wilhelm_ , leave the damn thing…” 

He was slumped against a crumbling wall, one of his hands on his knee, and he was talking to himself. Normally he would have looked straight up at her and followed immediately, but she could tell something wasn’t right.

“Nick?” Carmen slowly asked, stopping short a few feet of him. “Nick, are you–”

“Will! Just let it go! There’s plenty of time too–just let it– _Will_!” 

Valentine gave a low, drawn-out cry of anguish, and he collapsed completely against the wall. His face was twisted now, into an expression she had never witnessed before. As much as his eyes could show so little emotion, she still saw and felt the pain in them–some agonising feeling was rippling through Nick, and what could she do to soothe it, apart from watch and wait on tender hooks?

After a time, Carmen inched close to him, reaching out for his sleeve. She ran her hand up his shoulder, grasping, trying to ground him. Nick flinched at first, then, as expected, his yellow eyes snapped to her. A flicker of recognition softened his features, and he dropped his head, embarrassed. Or afraid.

“Was it a flash?” she asked quietly, crouching to be at his level physically, and hopefully emotionally as well. “Nick, you can talk to me… It’s me, Carmen.”

“I know, Carm,” he responded, finally in the present. His voice was strained but he still made an effort to answer her, sighing out, bracing himself, before he fixed his gaze permanently at her. “A flash, yeah. They come and they go. Fleeting, or…” His eyes widened with flat horror. “Fast and intense. Just… Just give me a sec, would ya?” 

“Sure, Nick.” Carmen squeezed his shoulder then scouted the area around them. They didn’t have a moment, not here at the bottom of the quarry they found themselves in. Raiders had been dealt with, but ghouls were still on the hunt as they would always be. Stalling here was giving them time to group, plan an ambush when they would be close to the exit, but… Nick was her friend. She’d scrape a moment if she could. 

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

Nick grimaced. He gestured for her to sit, slouch against the wall like him, and she did. Her tired bones were thankful for it, anyway. “Wilhelm Jones,” he explained, with another weary sigh. “A ghost of my past. One of my friends, on this case… There was a great fortune in this house on the outskirts of Boston. Too bad it was loaded up with mafia–too bad they had rigged it up with explosives galore. Just couldn’t help himself, that guy… I’ve– _Nick_ – _he_  lost too many good people to things like that. The misconceptions of wealth and what have you… That  _human_  nature to push the limit.” His eyes retained that flat horror as he glanced at her again. “Sometimes, I think you pull too many risks, too. Saving people is all I want to do too, but…” 

Carmen smiled thinly. She took the opportunity of rest to drop her head onto his shoulder, and closed her eyes for a brief, brief moment when he didn’t push her off or go stiff, simply let her do it. It was a gesture she was becoming accustomed to now, spending so much time with someone that had slowly became her greatest confidante. 

“I know what I’m doing, Nick,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m just worried about you, and these flashes. You… sure you’ll be all right in a minute?” 

“Don’t worry about some old synth, Carm,” Nick said, low in his throat. “You just worry about yourself, and your baby boy, and this mission we’re on. They come and they go. They come… and they  _go_.” She hoped it would be the last for a while. 


	9. Chapter 9

**ix. (carmen watching nick having fun with dogmeat)**

* * *

 

The last batch of crops had been harvested just before night set on Sanctuary; Carmen gave a proud smile to herself as she pushed the bags into the safe place that was the guarded metal shack at the end of the former street, and to the settlers who had aided her. Even Marcy Long had came a long way and volunteered to help these days, where once neither of them could stand each other. It seemed the uncertainty of the future had been clouding her true feelings, her genuine heart–it was the same for anyone Carmen tended to encounter in the wasteland.

“All right, I think I’ll hit the hay,” she announced, waving off the settlers. They decided among themselves they would sleep too, shuffling off, joking, nudging at each other. The smile on Carmen’s face only brightened, to see everything coming along so well, not just the building but the people she was protecting, too. 

She made it to the end of the path back to her own quarters, the multi-layered wooden shack she cultivated weekly, when she heard Dogmeat’s excited barks, and heard his paws scuffling quickly over the ground. It wasn’t like no one would play with him–he was the favoured pet of even the caravan merchants that passed through, that couldn’t resist his big eyes and floppy ears–but it was surprising all the same to see Nick Valentine as the one tossing a ball for the dog to catch, completely giving into his will.

Carmen rested her head against the wall, peeking from the corner to continue watching for a while. Nick’s smile was plastered on his face; it didn’t falter for the good five minutes she spent simply observing, and neither did Dogmeat’s excitement. Each time the ball was thrown, expertly shot with obviously no hint of exertion, the latter would sprint off, then return with an even bigger appetite. 

It was decidedly sweet… a phrase that could be applied to many of the detective’s actions. To herself, Carmen allowed a blush that no one would see in the dim moonlight that hit the shack over here. Thinking of Nick was bad enough lately, but watching him was worse. His eyes were forever glinting with mirth, no matter who he looked upon, but it was even more so saccharine to see him treat an animal with such respect.  _Perhaps it has something to do with how he thinks of himself…_

She shook her head, cleared her thoughts, and bounded up the stairs without looking back, lest she be there all night.

* * *

 

“ _Ugh_.” There was no sun to be found beating through the curtains of the top level of the shack like there usually would be, no hot radioactive temperature, yet Carmen woke up all the same–thanks to some irritating noise down below. “God, those… kids,” she said to herself with a wide yawn, swinging her legs over her bed. Her limbs felt utterly exhausted; by all accounts, she wasn’t even awake mentally properly. 

Still, she travelled to the window, where the noise grew louder with each step she took towards that direction. The new wave of settlers had brought a few kids with them, and it was nice to have them there. They brought joy just like Dogmeat did, their innocence proving a welcome contrast to the general feeling of discontent, fear, and violence that existed in the Commonwealth–but sometimes when they played at these wild hours of the night, it was just a nuisance.

( _Sometimes, they made her think of Shaun; she could see them in some of the boys’ faces, his sweet features, the polite little boy she had seen in Kellogg’s defeated brain–)_

“Hey, Georgia, if that’s your boy, I’ll–” 

Carmen’s speech was promptly cut off when she squinted in the low shape of the orange sun, barely there on the horizon, that illuminated the figures causing the noise. The sound wasn’t sourced from the bratty kids that usually stayed up, hyped on Nuka-Cola they hadn’t found fresh anywhere else until migrating to Sanctuary with their tired parents, but from Dogmeat and Nick.

She blinked to herself. Her hand moved the curtain away, pinning it to the side, so she could lean over and, with a grin, shout out, “Hey, Valentine!”

Dogmeat responded to her sudden voice with a startled bark, dropping the ball in his mouth, before he recognised her and gave another bark, happy this time. Nick looked straight up, meeting her sleepy eyes, and simply smiled at her.

“Carm,” he shouted back. He was sheepish in his tone, she noticed, and she hoped up here he couldn’t see her blushing like she had been last night. “Damn, sorry, did I–”

“No, it’s fine,” she said with a short laugh. Nick patted his leg, willing Dogmeat to follow him as he moved closer to the shack. Now, he craned his neck up, not wanting to disturb anyone else, clearly. Carmen looked back down, resting her chin in her hands, like some lovestruck Juliet; she forget herself around the detective, she surmised. “Have you two been playing all night?”

“Well–” Nick looked over his shoulder, at the sun. He narrowed his eyes, when he realised he mustn’t have noticed the change in light. He looked back to her, aimlessly gesturing with his hands, before he gave a heavy shrug. “I guess we have. Damn. Time flies when you’re having fun.” 

She grinned, and dropped her hands to look down at Dogmeat and make a kissing noise. “That’s my boy! Who’s a good dog, huh? You’ve been playing all night!”

Dogmeat barked. He ran in circles, flopping his ears, before he rubbed up against Nick. Nick indulged him with a firm stroke over his back, then some scratches behind his ear. 

“I’m just, uh,” he started, smiling more than Carmen had ever seen so openly, “he likes me. It’s nice to have someone that’ll interact with you all night. He… likes me.” 

The sun had started to rise more whilst they’d been talking. Carmen forgot about the state of disarray she was in, a thin nightgown all there was to cover her. She forgot her lips parting slightly, her eyes lingering upon Nick’s features when he was busy looking at Dogmeat. His hand looked so gentle, but so firm at the same time… On the occasions he had watched over her in her sleep, she had never felt safer. She suddenly felt longing pang at her like she hadn’t felt since Nate, to be the one staying up all night with him. To sit with him under the stars, discussing anything and everything about the Commonwealth. 

Cheeks pink, she grabbed the rail and lounged back a bit, feeling the warmth cascading over her. It was her natural instinct to hide, flee and work on Sanctuary again, rather than mentally confront these new feelings about Nick upon seeing him with her pet, but at the same time, she wouldn’t stop the smile on her face, and the laugh bubbling out of her throat. What better judge of character was there, other than an animal that could detect good or bad naturally, than the creations of God himself?

When Nick looked back up with a smile back at that laugh, she shouted back again, “He certainly does like you, Nick! He certainly does.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**x: (edge of the glowing sea)**

* * *

 

“You sure you’re ready to do this?”

The edge of the Glowing Sea was not foreboding, but whatever it held in the trenches tucked far behind it was certainly going to be. They stood on the precipice between normality and the next whirling chapter of Carmen’s story, and her hands couldn’t stop shaking around the worn helmet she was gripping onto.

“Hey,” Nick said again. “Carm, you sure you’re ready to do this?”

He put a hand to her shoulder, the biting feel of his metallic fingers breaking her gaze. Carmen eventually ripped her eyes away from a radiation cloud she had been following above them, allowing her body to loosen ever-so-slightly, meeting her partner’s softened face instead. They’d seen the result of radiation storms; after Nick led her out of whatever house they had sheltered in because she was too panicky and sick to withstand anything coherent for a while, the trees and cattle were guaranteed to be seared for a while. Bodies of those that hadn’t been able to escape and hit the edge of the eye of the storm rather than the safety in the centre greeted them too, charred skeletons just like the ones encountered from two centuries ago–from  _their_  time.

The Glowing Sea would be ten times harder to escape from, or impossible to if things went wrong: they would soon be entering the remnants of the Great War, where the nuke had directly hit Boston and transformed the landscape into another world in a matter of seconds. The only option available to trespass over the place came in the form of a hazmat suit; luckily, she’d swiped one from one of their many excursions whilst trying to fend off raiders from settlements.

“I’m…” When she strained her ears, Carmen could hear the distant rumbling of the Sea, and the sound of lightning splitting the horizon. The cracks of light were too faraway to make out, but they would no doubt be lighting up the sky like the storms that fanned over them. 

“No, I’m not ready, Nicky,” she admitted, “but I have to force myself to be. For Shaun… For my baby boy.” 

He understood–he always did. He didn’t need to say anything else; all the comfort lay in his expression when she kept her eyes on him, when he performed another routine check of her suit.

“We’ll get through it, Carmen– _you’ll_  get through it,” he said. “Damn, got through Kellogg together, didn’t we, baby?” She smiled at that, nodding with her lips caught between her teeth. He smiled straight back, stroking up her shoulders, sparing just a glance at the distance. “I know what it’s like for you in the radiation storms by themselves. I know how anxious it makes you…”

Her face started to fall at the mention, the reminder. “Nick–”

“And I promise, I’ll be here every step of the way too,” he added, “just like I always am. We’ll set a forward route, we’ll follow it, we’ll find that ex-Institute scientist in no time, deathclaws or whatever Hell wants to spit out there be damned. Then, soon enough, we’ll have Shaun.” Carmen faintly nodded to herself, with each word he spoke. 

Nick put a hand to her cheek. “That sound good to you, baby?”

“That sounds perfect to me, Nicky,” she said quietly back. 

“Good.” He kissed her lips. Even in her fear, it made her melt. “You ready to put this awful helmet on?”

She laughed, and nodded faintly again. “I’m ready for that, at least. Go on, Nick, let’s just… head into it before I chicken out.”

“I’m sure you could never chicken out of anything even if you tried, Carm.” Nick took the helmet from her, slowly, because her nails had dug into the fabric of it, and for a moment he was worried she had pierced something–but after a routine check of the helmet, too, he was assured their plan would work. If it didn’t, if the sickness would overcome her, he would pull her out in an instant, never forgive himself for it. “Hon, you’re gonna look so attractive when this is on. Might not be able to hold myself back, you know.” 

He couldn’t hear her throaty laugh when he put the bulky thing over her head. The front of it was a bit steamed up, too, and he waved his hand in front of her face. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice mildly muffled. “You hear that?”

“Yeah,” Nick said with a grin. “Let’s seal this in.”

He was like an attentive father, ensuring everything was set to go. The pipes were all connected–his mechanic ways were coming in handy here.  _There was a safe system in place in this suit so she could breathe without the radiation seeping in through the orifices; the insulation was sufficient; the helmet was strong enough to not break under pressure; the padding would provide some armour…_

He was going to be a mule for the journey, but that suited him just fine. There were enough Rad-Aways, Stimpaks, and as much ammunition as he could load into various pockets of his coat, sitting and waiting for future usage. 

“I think…” The detective walked around her once, gliding his fingers over her. “I think you’re all set. We should head off whilst the Sea looks… tame.” 

“You can tell from all the way over here?” she asked. “Those are some good detective skills, Valentine.”

“I’m just hoping,” he said. His eyes managed to pierce through the helmet, no matter how dirty it was. Carmen found comfort then, in how bright they shone. If they were to get a little lost in the constant clouding of the Sea, she was sure she would always find her way back to him. 

Craving his touch, she reached a gloved hand out to him. He accepted it immediately, with his good hand, intertwining their fingers. She was pulled close to his side, their hips touching, as they both looked out to where their discoveries had taken them; it was where the Sole Survivor’s story was still unfolding,  _her_  story.

“ _Deep into that darkness peering_ ,” Nick’s voice rumbled beside her, “ _long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before_ …”

Carmen’s lips quirked into a strong smile. “Wax poetic,” she said. “You’re a fan of that line.” 

“Always relevant,” he replied. “Shall we go, my love?” 

Her heart fluttered, a few times with fondness and a few times with nervousness. She took in a breath, that steamed the front of the helmet up even more. Shaun wouldn’t be at the epicentre of the Glowing Sea, no, but whatever was there would lead her to him. She would have him back enveloped in her arms very soon, the way it was meant to be, and with Nick at her side, things could only get better.

“Yes,” Carmen said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go.” 

They set off into hazy green, and surprisingly didn’t look back.


	11. Chapter 11

**xi. (nick has an old memory flash)**

* * *

 

She hovered in the doorway for a long while, this mysterious dame with the equally mysterious Vault-Tec jumpsuit, decked to the nines in straps of ammo and guns that looked too heavy for her. The smoke from the barrel of her pistol was lifting slowly to the ceiling, and she looked concentrated long enough for the flash to hit and pass Nick without much consequence. He blinked. Her image was suddenly scalding his skull.

_“General Applegate.” There were waitresses walking past in finery, handing out slices of caviar, apple, whatever other delicacies rich people liked to busy themselves with even on the eve of another war. Wine glasses clinked relentlessly, and all Nick could think of was the outline of white chalk that had marked Jenny’s dead body. “It’s a pleasure to see you, old man.”_

_His boss said,_ Go, it’ll be good for ya to stretch your legs, Valentine _, so he had come, to this veteran’s ball. He’d lost track of how many of these balls they hosted every few months; the military and its destruction was all people cared about, not justice. He’d taken a glass himself from one of the pretty girls and melted into the crowd, mechanically accepting handshakes and exchanging pleasantries all in one, cold tone no one picked up on._

_Nate was no different. He laughed, extended his hand to say hello to one of his old friends, then stepped back with an arm wide around a young woman that looked just as out of place as Nick was. He was all silver hair and battlescars and experience, standing tall and proud in his highly-decorated formal army uniform; she looked all small, wide-eyed and green._

_Yet there seemed a fire in her eyes when she exchanged glances between the two men. “Time’s on my side, for once,” the soldier said, and he squeezed that arm around his obvious beau. “Detective Nicholas Valentine, I’d like you to meet my wife, Carmen Foreman.” He touched his nose, pressing a kiss to said wife’s brow. “Or, she used to be. All Carmen_ Applegate _now.”_

_“Just after making a name for myself in the law community, too,” Carmen said with a genuine laugh. When she took her attention off her husband and stepped forward to offer her own hand to Nick, he was momentarily transfixed. She had brilliant white teeth that shone and could have rivalled some of the crystal champagne glasses in here people were waltzing around with; freckles were a little evident, dusted on her nose, and all of her features seemed elegant. Her blonde curls were a bit lilted at her shoulders but it didn’t discredit their beauty, and her eyes… Baby blues that reminded him of Jenny, before the world had chomped and churned them out, made them hardboiled—least they had been together._

_“It’s nice to meet you,” she continued, hand still hovering, the faintest red on her cheeks when he didn’t immediately accept it. “Is it Nick?”_

_“Ah—sorry,” Nick said in apology. He took her hand, turning to give her his full attention where he’d been addressing Nate rather from the side, and he smiled at the relief he saw flicker across her eyes. Clearly not a woman used to all this bumpf he detested himself. Someone on his level. “Yeah, it’s Nick. It’s real nice to meet you, Carmen. I’m sure the general here will look after you well.” He paused, wetting his lips in thought. “You’re, ah… Oh, you’re that Carmen Foreman… That ground-breaking lawyer in the papers?”_

_She smiled modestly. “Well, I wouldn’t call myself ground-breaking, but I have made some articles…”_

_“The very best,” Nate chimed in, and he kissed her brow again. Nick noted he’d downed a full glass in the time they had been speaking, and took another one off a waitress, which seemed half-empty already. “And soon to be the perfect mother.”_

_“Nate!” Carmen tried to shush him, swatting at his chest._

_For some reason, Nick felt sour. “All the best for you two, then,” he said, and they took it as a goodbye, which he followed through with. Walking away, he glanced over his shoulder and saw those blues hit his gaze in curiosity one more time, before they both hid themselves away in the blur of the party._

Coming down after the flashes were the worst. While she gathered her bearings and he needed time to gather himself too, Nick-the-synth dipped his hat, shook out a packet of cigarettes from his coat, and lit one up.

“Well,” he drawled, and he would try to make a coherent sense of why a woman from two centuries ago was here like a forgotten ghost, the same age and health too, when they weren’t holed inside of a deep vault. “You gotta admire the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario…”

She looked at him, and smiled with blood on her hands.


	12. Chapter 12

**xii. (breaking her arm and nick takes care of her)**

* * *

 

She had meant to dodge the big beast but her concentration faltered for a moment. That one moment was all it took, then, for the deathclaw to realise its chance and swipe a massive paw at her. Her arm, reaching to reload her sniper pistol haphazardly, didn’t stand a single chance.

There was a sickening crunch, followed by a clear snap. Carmen’s eyes widened in the slow few seconds before the shock would wash over, and when it did wash over, she wailed. The agony of the sudden fracturing of her arm swept throughout her entire body, from her toes to her head, waves of pulsating pain that were even worse combined with the emotional torture she had already been feeling, here in the intense Glowing Sea. In the midst of the deathclaw’s roaring, she fell limply to the hard ground the moment it saw fit to release her, and released another pitiful wail.

“Christ,  _Carmen_!” 

She heard Nick’s voice and felt his fury in it. Gunshots seemed so off in the distance and muffled in her head; all she could think of was her arm, and she clutched it tight, rolling over in the irradiated dirt. She’d broken her arm plenty of times as a child, as a teenager--escapades in tree-houses or through her favoured pasttime of cycling. 

The pain here was nothing compared. Even if it was a clean break, she thought in the fleeting seconds of clarity before pain filled her again, it was the setting that made all the difference. They were vulnerable here, she could be killed in this awful world.  _No, no_ , she thought quickly.  _I_ can’t _die. Shaun’s depending on me. Shaun’s waiting for me--I can’t die--I can’t give in, I can’t--_

“Nick!” she cried out, kicking her legs and baring her teeth, because she didn’t know how else to respond to the hurt. “Nick, it hurts so--it hurts so--” 

It felt like hours and hours before his figure, shadowy by the clouds and wisps of constant radiation here, towered over her, then leant down to slide his arms beneath her form. She whimpered at his touch, crying out when she had to be moved so abruptly, but that was what she needed to do. She needed to move, she needed to  _live_.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Nick said, hoarse, pulling her gingerly against him. “I got that mutated bastard, and I’ve got you.” 

“There’s nowhere to go,” Carmen stuttered through her sobs, pulling at his coat, his sleeve, anything to comfort her. Through her tears, and through the blurred vision her helmet gave, she could just make out the outline of a deathclaw’s shuddering corpse. “We’re--we’re...” 

“We’re near the edge,” he soothed her. “It’s all right, Carmen. It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. But I have to--” She knew what he was going to say, biting down hard on her lip until it drew blood. “I'll have to move you about a bit. I have to be quick to get you somewhere safe. You’ll have to be brave for me.” 

“Brave,” she breathed. “Brave. I can... I need to live, Nick. For Shaun. Just...” She nodded her head, letting her limbs fall loose. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt so much that way, though she couldn’t stop clutching her arm either. “Just help me, please.” 

The pain blacked her out. Mental exhaustion, physical exhaustion, the shock of having a broken limb--they all collided to knock her into a black, black sleep. There was nothingness there, not even the sweet images of Nate and Shaun playing that sometimes came to her when she dreamed. Sometimes she was guilty of using sleep as a device to ignore it all, the state of the world, the responsibilities placed on her. For once, it wasn’t of her choosing. For once, she wanted nothing more than to shake herself out of this sleep, and hunt down Shaun like she had been doing.

“Shaun!” Carmen opened her eyes and jerked, then let out a low hiss and fell back against what were apparently comfortable pillows placed behind her head. She could hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance; it felt like she was still in the Sea for a moment. “Shaun...”

“I’m--sorry he’s not here, Carmen,” a familiar voice automatically said. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling a few days worth of bags under them, and caught sight of piercing yellow eyes. 

She smiled wide, with her teeth, despite the pain, extending her arm to him. “Nicky...” The detective stood, taking her hand, intertwining their fingers, pressing his forehead to hers like they often did after tremulous skirmishes. He was smiling, too, though thinly, sadly. “Where are we...?”

He glanced around; she followed his eyes. It was a nice little shack. There were decorations on the walls, cat and scenery pictures, a table and chairs neatly organised. “One of the farms that are allied with the Minutemen, they said,” he told her. “Can’t remember the name. To be quite honest, all I’ve done is think about you.” 

Carmen tugged at his collar and kissed him desperately. He kissed her back. “How far did you carry me?” she asked.

He seemed sheepish when he said, “All the way.”

“From the Sea?”

“From the edge, yeah.” Nick pushed her to lay back down, frowning when she moved against her arm. “I had to, baby. I couldn’t leave you there, the hell? You’re my girl.”

She giggled. “I know that,” she said. Her smile wilted into a poignant frown when she saw the cast on her arm. It was so makeshift, but it would do the job, Nick went on to tell her. One of the farmers was a part-time medic; he would give anything to help the General of the Minutemen. “Oh, Nick. I’m going to be useless for so many weeks...”

“Nonsense. You’ll heal. Perhaps you need the rest,” Nick said wisely. He took his seat back at her side and she felt drowsiness hitting her again. All the while, he never released her hand, rolling his faux-skinned thumb over the back of her hand. “The Glowing Sea isn’t going anywhere. Shaun...” She saw him gulp. “Shaun won’t be. His mama’s still looking for him; it’s just a fork in the road.”

“Thank-you, Nick,” Carmen said, slowly, breathing out. She felt so much love for this  _man_ \--she would tell him he was a real man until he believed her--that it tore her apart sometimes. How others could disregard him, because he was wiring and metal somewhere on the inside; he still held a soul, he could still love more than some humans could. “I love you.” 

He was sheepish again. She heard a buzzing noise that she rarely heard, and giggled again. “Damn processors,” he muttered, scratching the side of his cheek with his claw, but his eyes on her were all sincere, and his expression a smile she captured mentally. “I love you too, baby. Maybe saying I love you more than this crapsack world doesn’t sound like much, so I love you more than our old world. That sounds better.”

She could make her peace with a broken limb from just his words, she decided with a reverent smile.


End file.
